The Visit
by SillyGoy
Summary: Updated from its previous incarnation, because a silly goy loves a certain Bubi way too much. What was once a mere exercise into characterization that turned into something awfully romantic. Best experienced if the reader self-inserts.


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**The Visit**

_Because a silly goy loves a certain Bubi all too much_

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Knock, knock.

"Come in," said a female voice from the other side.

And I twisted the knob and pushed the door open, exploratorily peeking through the gap as it widened, before stepping in confidently. "Erica," I greeted, as I closed the door behind me, allowing my eyes a gander around the rather spartan room before settling on the figure towards my left-hand side. There she was, my darling Erica: blonde of hair, blue of eye and fair of skin as she was highlighted majestically by the late afternoon sunlight that filtered through the curtains fluttering mildly to the breeze. She slouched over her desk, a pen in between her fingers as she sifted expertly between papers and hurriedly applied her signature to each of them. "I see you've gotten good at doing paperwork."

"Had to, someday," she said, without looking back at me. "Otherwise, this whole joint would lock up shut." She sighed theatrically. "Don't you just hate bureaucracy?"

"Glad to see you haven't changed a bit," I remarked, as I stepped forward, my footfalls upon the floor stark, though mildly muffled by the matting.

"Me?" she turned her head around, her eyes meeting mine as she straightened out a stack of documents on her desk. "No, never."

"That's good. What are these for?" I asked, as I loomed over her from behind. She returned her gaze to the documents.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Requisition forms and the like- Hey!"

She shot me a mildly surprised look as I took her by the shoulders and began pressing my thumbs against them in a light massage, making wrinkles on her uniform which she, for some reason, hadn't changed out of yet.

"What?" I grinned.

"You're awfully bold today," she observed, something playful dancing across her expression in just the way I liked it. "Did something bad happen?"

"I did have a rather rough morning. Why, you don't like it?"

"Well," she rolled her eyes around, before coming to a decision. "No. Actually, it feels good." She then began to relax, lowering and loosening her stiff shoulders as she sank, however possible, into the wooden chair, and turning her gaze away from me. "Keep doing that."

"With pleasure."

I could practically feel her lazily closing her eyes as I continued my little service, though admittedly I was a little uncomfortable as I had to hunch a bit to properly do it. As she further loosened herself, my ministrations became firmer, and I familiarly depressed the usual pressure points near and along her neck, with random tresses of her golden hair tickling my hands.

"Tell me about your work," I invited, innocently enough, as I formed a chevron with my two hands and began chopping on her back.

"Why, such, a, boring, thing?" she replied, each word punctuated with unintentional, sudden inflections in tandem with her light frame shivering at every smack I made.

"You're stressed," I conjectured. "Maybe talking about it will ease you more."

"Hmm. Maybe, you're, right."

"It can't be that bad," I said, as I returned to pressing on her shoulders.

"Well, alright," she sighed. "Lubitz crash-landed again."

"That makes it, what, the third time?"

"Fifth, actually," she said with minor exasperation. "Poor girl has a lot of potential, but her magic control is awful. Maybe it's because she's pissed she didn't get to fight in the war. You know, she's actually hoping for another one. I overheard her talking with Neumann."

"Lively one, isn't she?"

"The most, out of the squadron. Always so eager. Heh, you know, I wonder sometimes if I was just as bad as the kids when I was younger."

"'The kids?'" I echoed with amusement. "You're only eighteen years old."

"Oh please," I could feel her smirking. "Don't talk to me about age, old man."

"I'm only twenty-two!" I defended myself indignantly.

"Still pretty old, and let's not mention the fact that I outrank you," she continued to tease. "Be thankful I didn't go for someone younger."

"You'd be hard-pressed to find someone else who," and at that point, I steadied my hands on her shoulders and pushed in with my wrists, sending a quick succession of pops along her back, "Knows your body like I do."

She had lolled her head back at that, and chuckled lightly at the implied meaning. "Good point. Ah, you know, you should have been a masseuse."

"Mother thinks so too," I said, about to press my thumbs on the back of her neck, but stopping at the last instant to deliver a kiss beforehand. "But then I wouldn't have met you."

She perked up visibly at the gesture. "My, how romantic. Something bad _did_ happen."

"You don't like being kissed either?"

"I didn't say that. Just wasn't expecting it, is all."

"Then would you be morally opposed to it," I paused the massage, and kissed her again, "If I did this?"

But then she stood up, much to my surprise, and stepped away from her chair to face me. She looked mystically resplendent in her new uniform with the bright window at her back, its furred collar and the shining diamonds on its shoulder patches significant of her new rank. Its slightly loose look on her emphasized the artistic shapeliness of her petite form, as she balled her hands into fists and placed them on her hips and looked at me with an inquisitive expression.

"Where is this coming from, Jakob?" she asked.

"From the fact that I miss you? Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Is that so?" she said, smirking testily.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I mean, what else?"

"Hmm, well," she hummed, "Okay then."

I was about to say something, but she reached for her neck, effectively silencing me as I watched her undo the buttons of her uniform, beginning from the top and working her way to the bottom. She must have noticed the obvious expression on my face, as while she worked on the middlemost button, she quipped, "What's that look for?"

"Surprise and bewilderment. What are you doing?"

Having undone the fastenings of it, she pulled her uniform away from her body, and let it hang limply on the back rest of her chair. And there she was now, barely clothed save for a thin undershirt and her lowleg panties, and I was speechless as she glided by my side, her hips swaying hypnotically, and beckoned me towards the bed with a curl of her finger.

"Erica," I began, my longing unashamedly bare when I uttered her name, but I was interrupted.

"Hush," she whispered powerfully.

I was given a full view of her shapely behind as she crawled onto the bed, her hips raised delectably to my slightly confused eyes. This escalation had certainly been fast, but I had no choice but to dumbly walk over when she gave me an expectant stare as she nuzzled the pillow with her cheek. Of course, I had to undo my shoes before climbing to join her first, and this was met with feigned petulance and impatience on her part, as she raised a foot and hit the cushioning with it. "I'm coming, don't you worry," I said placatingly, having managed to strip my feet to my socks, before finally hefting myself over to the sheets.

I snaked my way to her, moving closer, and felt the length of her strong, lean leg meanwhile, admiring the power belied by its thin frame. She voiced no complaint when I rested my hand on her buttock, but when I thumbed at the straps of her panties, she gave my fingers a lightning-fast smack.

"Ow," I voiced. "What was that for?"

"What do you think you're doing? This is just a massage."

"A massa- of course. Of course. Alright."

She smirked at me. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, now."

"Right," I said, making wrinkles on the bedsheets as I moved up next to her, at her right. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's fine. I'm just not in the mood for it. Now do me softly, alright? I'm a bit more tired than usual."

"Right," I said, as I placed my hands on her back. "I'll be careful."

I started at the usual place, at the northernmost parts of her back and her shoulders, rubbing them firmly, and pushing my fingers strongly on key pressure points. I could hear her timing her exhalations to every press I made, to my delight, significant of the fact that she was liking it. "That's good. Keep at it," she encouraged, although I didn't to hear it to continue my work.

"So how are things on your end?" she ventured, bringing up a new topic, not looking at me as she snuggled the pillow with her face. As she spoke, I could feel her lungs laboring to give air to her voice, the vibrations felt by my fingertips. "How long does your leave last?"

"A month. Then we'll be setting sail again, probably off looking for the much-rumored Atlantic Hive," I joked. She didn't seem to find the humor in it, however.

"You're not getting demobilized? Returning to civilian life?"

"No. I've been doing this since I turned sixteen, and, frankly, I don't quite think I know how to do anything else."

"Same here, actually," she admitted. "The Witch Corps has become my life. I'll miss it when I go to study medicine."

"You still want to become a doctor?"

"Mm-hmm. Whereas you're going to make a career out of the Kriegsmarine, aren't you?"

"Unless something happens," I said.

"And wha- ah, there, there, there, right there! Right there; no, don't move your hands away," she hollered, and I scrambled to comply with her orders, kneading at her back. "There. Riiiight there. Mnn," she moaned lightly, a little coquettishly so to my ears, as I found the spot she wanted and kept on my ministrations there. Meanwhile, she arched her back, and I noticed her toes hanging a few inches off the bed, till I put my hands elsewhere and they dropped soundly onto the sheets.

"Whoo," she sighed. "Alright, that was great. Anyway, what were we talking about?"

"Nothing important. Hm," I then reached out forth, pausing the massage, to allow a bundle of her golden mane on my palm. "Your hair's gotten longer."

"A bit, yeah, on purpose. I'm glad you noticed it."

"It looks good on you."

"Oh please, you can't even see my face right now," she countered, as she turned the other cheek on the pillow.

"I was wondering why you looked a bit different before. I like it. You look more mature."

"Really? Well," she appeared to be thinking of something witty to say, before giving up. "Thanks. Uhm. You've gotten a bit more fit, too."

"Compared to the last time we saw each other? Yeah, life in a submarine will do that to you."

"Surrounded by half-naked, sweaty men in a steamy environment," she supplemented. I chuckled.

"That's actually true."

She then turned the other cheek again, and looked at me.

"Hey Jakob?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for visiting."

"Oh, no need for thanks," I dismissively said.

"No, really, thank you. I needed this. The duties of a squadron commander can be a lot on your plate. Now shut up and go further down, you've been giving my top lots of attention. You're not gonna unclip my bra that way, you know."

"Oh my. Caught me red-handed," I went along, moving my hands towards her lower back and beginning to press and rub against the firmness of her latissimus dorsi. Even with her undershirt acting as a mild barrier between her skin and mine, the very real contact they made gave me cause to admire her lean musculature. If she was tired right now, then my fingers were even more so, as they met resistance wherever they pressed and I'd been going at it for a while. This was a toned, warrior's body, I thought appreciatively, as I swept my gaze down to her legs and back again.

"Wait, hold on," she said, out of the blue, and I moved out of the way as she propped herself up on her knees. Her bare back was to me as she liberated herself of her thin, buttoned undershirt, which she tossed away towards somewhere unimportant in the room. In those moments when she removed the clothing, I could admire in full her physicality as she flexed her arms here and there, and as hints of the sun through the window underscored the small, shadowy groove that ran along her spine with their light.

She hugged the pillow again, but not before unclipping her bra and letting the straps fall to her sides. "There's lotion over there," she pointed lazily at a shelf, containing an assortment of bottled liquids, both viscous and not. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," I admitted, stepping away from the bed for a moment to retrieve the item, and squeezing its contents into my hands as I returned. Spreading the stuff on my palms, I then began to slather her back with it. She was noticeably silent as I did this. A quick lean to the right showed me that she had closed her eyes, which opened at the absence of my touch.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Just thinking about how cute you look asleep," I answered, with boyish confidence.

"You snore loudly when you sleep," she brought up. I couldn't quite find a retort to that.

"Yeah. Right," I managed, intimidated into silence.

The next few minutes were spent in quietude, with neither of us making any important quips. Sometimes I would ask her how she was feeling, and she would say that she was good. Occasionally she would encourage me to keep pressure on a weary spot, and she would arch her back appreciatively at it. But to be frank, I was consciously holding my lust in.

"Say," I ventured. "You were still wearing your uniform when I got here. And doing paperwork. Has Commander Wilcke been rubbing off on you?"

Erica chuckled. "She wishes. It didn't come from her, surely. My promotion gave me this workaholic-ness, and even then I've got arrears to be made up."

"Sounds rough."

"Like you have no idea."

"When are you planning to leave?" I inquired.

"The Corps? When I manage to shape up JG 52 into a combat-ready fighting force. So a few months from now."

"You'll be off to study medicine then, yeah?"

"Mm. In Helvetica, with Yoshika," she smiled at the thought of her comrade, whom I remembered from her letters.

"How is that raccoon dog?"

"Livelier now that the war's over, and she's pursuing her dream of becoming a medical professional. We write each other letters regularly. But, you didn't get much of my mail, did you?"

"I'd only get them on shore leave, by the handfuls. Don't worry, I read each and every one."

"I know you did," she whispered powerfully, giving me pause, and giving reason for my next, equally solemn statement:

"I've missed you, Erica."

She seemed to still at this, perhaps because of the gravitas my words carried. But her response was immediate and energetic - stirring up from the bed to sit on her knees and face me, while holding her arms close to her chest to pin her bra there for modesty, she leaned in with catlike swiftness, catching me as I tried to evade by reflex. Her lips clumsily mingled with mine, then locked properly with their partner pair as we adjusted to the sudden event. My eyes belatedly closed, following hers as I began to return the kiss, tilting my head as she did the same, savoring the sweet sensation I'd craved and longed for during my dreary, cramped days out in the North Sea.

A particular movement on her part made it apparent that she had intended for it to be but a short one, but neither of us would have it. We continued the liplock, and I wrapped my arms around her to pull her close. She didn't object, and as the heavy seconds passed, punctuated by the fleshy sounds of our impromptu tryst, we loosened up and allowed more of our desperation to seep out, long-buried feelings suddenly released to take on very literal forms as her tongue passed through my lips to dance with my own.

Her back was first to return to the cushioning of the bed, her head falling on the pillow, meanwhile our lips never parted. I couldn't put my hands over her back in this position, so she wrapped me in her embrace instead. We wrinkled the sheets as we moved and squirmed about, our bodies pressing together in unhidden desire. So close were we that we shared the same space and breathed the same air, although when our jaws began to hurt, we just had to break the kiss.

I pulled away to the sight of her brilliant eyes looking into mine. Spit made a wispy bridge across the thin gap between our mouths, which collapsed when I rose another inch. She pursed her lips to lick them, running her tongue briefly along the tiny ridges that joined with mine not just a few moments ago. I smiled at her, severing however little the consensual silence between us, and she smiled in turn.

"I missed you too," she said, as I brought a hand up to lovingly stroke her hair.

"I thought you said you weren't in the mood," I teased, turning my smile into a grin.

"Your massage," she put away her eyes for a moment to think, "Energized me."

And I was about to reply, but then a rasp on the door, three small knocks, encouraged us to whip our heads to another direction.

"Mistress?" came a probing voice, muffled by the hardwood. "Dinner is ready."

"Alright," she called. "We'll be down soon."

It occurred to me then, to the audible sounds of the servant's footsteps walking away, that the lighting was noticeably dimmer than when I first entered her room. When I looked to the window, the orange sunset had already faded into something darker.

"We made out a long time," I remarked, before looking at her once more, reaching in to pull down her panties so we could get into the real meat of it all. "Let's continue."

But her finger on my lips bid me to stop. "Nuh-uh," she cautioned, as she maneuvered her legs out from under me with artistic finesse. "Not before dinner," she explained to my confused and obviously disappointed expression, but at that point my stomach growled, and I realized I hadn't eaten anything before this time but a sandwich for lunch.

"Sounds good," I said, as she stood from the bed to don her bra and pick up her buttoned undershirt from its crumpled heap on the floor. Meanwhile, I retrieved my shoes and began to put them on, sitting on the bedside. "What are we having?"

"Garlic fried rice, hungarian sausages and pork liempo," she said, to my surprise. "Juan's cooking."

"Ah," I remembered. "Your new servant from the Philippines."

"Dad's belated birthday gift to me," she laughed grimly. "Another human being. But he actually enjoys being here, working for my family."

"So far from his home?" I made a final tug on my laces, then stood up.

"He's… got no home to return to now. But that's not for me to say. Anyway," she then turned around to me, figuring that fastening half of the buttons on her shirt was as good as having done all of them in her characteristically carefree brand of laxity, and offering me a delightful view of her cleavage and exposed midriff. I noted the gap in between her upper thighs even as she stood with her legs closed together. She'd really matured since I last met her when she was sixteen, I thought. Her hips had filled out quite nicely, their shapely curves cupped by her hands at the sides.

"Will you be staying the night?"

"Yes," I said. "I'd love to," I affirmed. "You know it," I reaffirmed. She found this moment of weakness of mine to be funny for some reason, and did a little girlish giggle.

"I'm happy," she contentedly said. "Well, anyway, let's go."

"Right behind you," I collected myself, and in her wake I followed my darling Erica into the doorway and beyond.


End file.
